


The ink is not yet dry

by Prisioux



Series: Hermione and Tom [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Hogwarts, Kinks, Menstruation Kink, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ravenclaw, Sex, Slytherin, Snakes, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisioux/pseuds/Prisioux
Summary: Hermione Granger is not happy, neither with herself, the wizarding world or prospects for her future. She makes a huge decision and prepares for it: saving the world means saving Tom Riddle...or killing him before it is too late.Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling





	1. 1942

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, Hermione makes a very important decision early on, to have a support system during her travel. Had she arrived, alone and confused, she would have to rely heavily on Dumbledore and risk Tom being weary of her. 
> 
> Sorry, but no Ron bashing. I know and agree, and even JK Rowling confirmed Ron was not a perfect match for Hermione, but I ruled out making him a villain to justify the end of their relationship .
> 
> As for the climate of this fic: more humour, less angsty...but I will be tackling some topics like women´s rights, emotional alienation and traumas, if not deeply, seriously.

I  would either fuck things up  or save everyone I love by disregarding a very simple and logical rule: wizards should _not_ meddle with time.

The war was over. Lord Voldemort, defeated. We would continue our lives, become adults and following our dreams, all because Harry managed to finally kill the Dark Lord. The thing was, although Harry was indeed a hero, he had help. He did not do all alone. In fact, a multitude of witches and wizards sacrificied their lives so that Harry could finally send the demented Dark Lord to where he belonged.

I knew how stories would be told. The Golden Trio, lauded, celebrated, commended. What about the price we and others paid? Teddy would be growing up without a mother and a father; Sirius Black and his brother had their reputations tarnished before dying for the greater good; children forced to fight a war by those who should have protected them...Severus Snape forced to live his life in the shadows and be scorned and vilified by most of us before meeting a painful end.

The choices...the hard choices. I am supposed to be one of the good guys, but I never heard of heroes pointing their wands to their parents and erasing their memories. _For their own safety_ , I tell myself. It does not make any less wrong and unfair, both to them and myself.

Children like Harry and I should have never been placed in this position.

_Thank you Dumbledore and Lord Voldermot._

I knew I would eventually settle with Ron...marry, have children. One day, perhaps, I would be Minister of Magic, the living proof that muggle-borns could be as magical and powerful as pure-bloods, showing everyone once and for all that talent, not blood, mattered.

Even with my whole future ahead of me...I could not let go of my feelings. _PTSD_ , my therapist said. I could go along, take the pills and continue to speak about the inner demons, the nightmares, but this would not _change_ the wrongness of what I had lived. Not to mention, it would not erase my guilt. I wanted my innocence back...I wanted Harry Potter to have had a childhood...I wanted Sirius Black to go travel the world on his bike instead of being locked at Azkaban...I wanted Andromeda Black to have her husband and daughter with her and poor Teddy, to grow up with his father.

I had to go back and turn the wrong into right.

It was simple, very simple: all I had to do was to have Tom Marvolo Riddle give up the idea of becoming the Dark Lord.

_Or kill him._

Decision made, I prepared. It took a year of my life to get where exactly where I wanted to be, but working hard to attain my goal brought me an immense sense of pride and helped with my illness. That my relationship with Ron suffered and that he eventually broke up with me because I was so immersed in my own work did not come as a surprise.

Now looking back, I was not _sad_ to let Ron go.

Actually, I was relieved.

“You do not seem upset.” He remarked as I helped him collect his things from his assigned drawer at my flat. I was living near my parents at that time, their memories restored, but the trauma still there.  “This should not have happened; we were meant to be together…”he said in a sad tone

 _Were we ever“_ On the surface, yes, Ron...we shared so much and we do love each other, right? However, we simply want different things from life…”

“Wecould make it work though.” Ron muttered. “Your parents, they both have careers...it is completely possible. I never expected you to be like my mum, Hermione.”

In all honesty, Ron was _righ_ t: he was the first to admit that I had more drive and talent than him, now that he had grown up . He reached a rational conclusion with the information provided; he simply did not know about my secret plans at all and therefore, he assumed I was taking our break up so well because I thought he would hinder my political aspirations and nag me to start a family, like so many of our friends.

“My parents are dentists and they work side by side. They come from a middle class, highly educated background and chose to have only one child because of their work…” I had travelled to Australia just six months ago and restored their memories. Ron had met them and saw first hand how well my father and mother had managed to balance their professional and private lives. Although I felt vile for even doing it, there I was, using the fact that my parents were not from wizarding world and, therefore, their experiences were irrelevant to mine and Ron´s situation. “ You know now that muggles follow other social rules...and that your parents would expect me to be more conventional…”

I looked at Ron. His expression was dull, a line between his brows. I knew he was just digesting what I said, while also agreeing with my assessment, which meant the discussion was over.

He left without another word.

I poured myself a glass of wine and stared at the ceiling for half an hour, contemplating the situation. _I would be stuck in 1942 and never be born as Hermione Granger in 1979_. My parents would either try longer for a child, or not have kids at all. Or maybe we would be living in different timelines...as I would not use the name Hermione anymore, I would definitely not be Hermione anymore...

***

Convincing Tom Marvolo Riddle that muggles and muggle- borns have their own merits was paramount to the success of my endeavour. If my research was correct, he would “break bad”  in the summer of 1943. So I would land sometime in the previous year and attend Hogwarts alongside him, become his friend and well, save his soul.

Here I must mention that I do not believe one is born pure evil. However, is hard not to see that some of us do have some nasty, inherited tendencies, and that Tom was, at best, one of those and, at worst, a psycopath. I read a lot about psychopathy and there were theories suggesting it was a combination of both nurture and nature...that their brain chemistry simply was different, implying that was possible to have those substitute the urge to kill and detsroy things, for, let´s say, thrill seeking careers or engaging in alternative lifestyles. The important thing was to recognize triggers and to educate them. But it was all theory, of course; reality, as usual, would prove to be more complicated.

Since I agreed everybody should have a chance, I had to go with the assumption that Tom Riddle deserved one, at least until he proved me wrong. Then, I would  be forced to work on my plan B and , well...get rid of the bad seed.

Dumbledore distrusted Tom from the start, both because he was a parselmouth and for what the orphan had _already_ managed to do during his stint at the orphanage. Riddle had, in fact, attacked at least two kids with magic and left them so traumatized they stopped speaking. I analyzed this piece of information from all angles and decided I could not simply ignore it, nor could I condemn or condone his actions. I was not there to know exactly what Tom had done with said kids. Or what he had been subjected to under their hands. Perhaps he lost control and went too far...or perhaps he indeed meant to harm them.

The incident was troublesome on many levels, but I could not mark it as a point of no return for the simple reason I had no idea what was like to be born and raised as an orphan with magical abilities in muiggle England at the first half of the twentieth century. I could only assume it had not been _easy._ Children wanted to belong, especially orphans, and Tom had been singled out from the start.

At first, I assumed it would make things go smoothly for me, to become real friends with Tom and open his eyes for the real world if I were to simply pop up at Hogwarts as a magical orphan raised among muggles.

However, Tom Riddle was a slytherin through and through and, by that time, he had already established himself as a somewhat popular and talented pupil. He would simply not care to spend much time with me, a person without connections and an unknown entity, at least not in the beginning, if I presented myself as a defenseless, muggle-born damsel in distress.

So I started to investigate my genealogical tree in earnest as Professor Dumbledore and many others believed that muggle borns actually descended from powerful magical families through their squibs, the unfortunate non- magical offspring of wizards and witches.

As I still felt terrible about taking away much of my parents choices when I erased their memories, this time around I told them everything about my plans and, to my surprise, mother was very understanding of my reasons and agreed to actively help me. My father was against it, but he was aware of the fact that I had worked with time turners before and that I was an adult and did not need his blessing.

Begrudgingly, he contacted my grandmother and started investigating his own roots, as did my mother, who undoubtedly had talked her husband into helping me, reasoning I knew what I was doing.

(I might have lead them both to believe that I would not alter the events leading to my birth, that the mission would be a simply going-there-and-killing-the-evil-wizard kind of thing.)

My obvious struggles with mental health surely had something to do with my parents decision of helping me going back in time. “ You are not happy; we want you to be happy, Hermione.” My mother said one night after we had a lovely dinner where there was no mention of wizarding world, my break up with Ron or my depression.

After months and even a portkey trip to Ireland, I came to the conclusion that indeed, the squib origin theory of muggle-born witches was right- at least in my case- and luckily for me, my great-grandmother, Colleen Fingal, was pretty much alive in 1942 and living in London with her brilliant muggle husband, Dr Saul Cohen, a skilled surgeon.

I was happy to find out that the squibs born into this most prestigious irish wizarding family were raised with better prospects than most and even kept ties with their magical relatives, which was just perfect. As an Unspeakable, I had access to many great magical artifacts, books and archives. Nobody at the Department found strange how many extra hours I was spending there in what would become the last days of my modern-day life and, without Ron , I did not have much of a social life anyway…

I remembered a guy named Fingal had attended Hogwarts at some point and was a quidditch player before being transferred to another wizarding school. I checked the files and, as I suspected, I found some Fingals among listed students all the way through the inception of Hogwarts to the last decade of the twentieth century.

In the first day of the new year, I was alone at my desk. I had a backpack filled with what I deemed necessary for my new life. The success or failure of my plan would only be known to me if I went forward with it, but there was something I could do to ensure that my efforts and research were not in vain, and that my decision and preparations were not a waste of my time.

There was no charm, spell or incantation...I merely used  the same magical ink and added the name “ Mia Fingal” on the list of students for the fifth year of the year 1942.

“It worked!” I all but screamed...the archives, I saw, were being rewritten. “I am going back in time!”

***

**August 1942**

The de-aging potion I had brewed tasted foul, but at least I looked like my sixteen-years old self. After I turned twenty-one, as my mother had predicted, I started paying more attention to my appearance and I had developed a fast and simple beauty routine that attended to my practical nature and it was my hope that my somewhat groomed, but not tamed wild, brown curls would endear me to my squib great-grandmother, because for what my mother told me, Coleen Cohen was considered to be quite the beauty among polite society.

My first moments back in time were filled with confusion and dread. I had done my research correctly I told myself time and again and knew London enough to get around, but 1942 had been simply _not_ a good year to live in London in the first place, so it took me time and effort to go from Charing Cross to Hampstead. Even seeing the pictures of collapsed buildings and overall destruction the constant german raids inflicted in the city, the sight brought my own memories of the wizarding war back and only added to my inner turmoil.

Thankfully, Colleen Cohen turned out to be much more than a beautiful face; squib or not, she had an inkling of who I was the minute she opened the door and found me there:

“Good afternoon.” I said in a barely audible tone, my self confidence completely lost. “ I  would like to have a word, if I may, Mrs Cohen…”

Colleen was in her late forties or early fifties and looked the part of a successful doctor´s wife, well cut clothes and perfectly combed hair. She smiled at me, perhaps already aware of who I was. “ Please, dear, come in.”

It was a spacious house in a very good neighborhood, but nothing ostentatious. My great-grandfather was out working  and, by that time, grandmother Margaret had already married and moved out the house, so Coleen was currently alone. She was kind enough to offer me some tea, which I accepted and I was surprised to walk with her to the kitchen, where she proceeded to fill the kettle and boil the water herself. I obviously have assumed she had servants; only later she explained that with the war and now that her children were grown, they only kept one maid and she was doing much of the cooking herself.

“You are yet to tell me your name, dear…” Colleen noted as she sat by the table.

Being reminded of my lack of manners, my face went instantly red; I started with my most sincere apologies and continued with my tale. Colleen listened to my rambling without interruption.

“Your parents are dentists you said...how wonderful!”

From all the things she had heard, my great grandmother was most impressed by the revelation that her granddaughter would grow up to be an orthodontologist!

“Yes, they met at school.” I said lamely. _Is she not worried that I will study side by side with a maniac?_

“Good thing that my husband is not a religious man or a wizard...if we had a portrait of his dear mother here at home, she would be screaming right now about her descendants marrying outside of her faith…”

This observation made me remember the time I spent at Grimmauld Place and I agreed it was a good thing indeed, since Nana Cohen sounded a lot like Walburga Black...

“We should have some days before you are to take the train to Hogwarts...your name appearing on their lists was a good idea indeed. A secret is only a secret if it is kept by one person; that you already told me is dangerous enough, but unavoidable under the circumstances. It would be bad to have someone in the wizarding world knowing from where you came from. “

Tom Riddle was a very smart man and if somehow he discovered that I had foreknowledge of what was yet to happen, he would stop at nothing to use to his advantage. However, if I managed to avert disaster, he would have no reason to be suspicious of me.

Another reason not to have anyone outside the Fingal Family aware of my origins was that my only possible ally would have been Dumbledore, a man who had no qualms about sending children to do his bidding.

“My father lives still. I will send word that I managed to birth a magical daughter and that you are to attend Hogwarts. When I left Ireland, it was agreed I would be only contacted in case of deaths in the family and that I was only to contact them if my life was in danger, _or_ if I had magical offspring. In this event, my child- _you_ \- would be raised as a Fingal. Of course, this detail would explain why I supposedly took fifteen years to alert them of your existence…”

I was hoping to pass off as Colleen´s half sister, but beggars can't be choosers...

Colleen did not speak too much about her family in the next days, nor did I press the subject simply because she never gave me an opening. I understood that she could not explain who I was to her husband without breaking the wizarding world rule, however, being introduced simply as a “daughter of a distant cousin” made me a bit bitter about the whole thing.

To be completely honest, I was disappointed by Colleen´s behavior. On one hand, she was indeed helping me a lot with practical things, but on the other, everytime I tried to speak about her experiences and views, or anything personal really, she would change the subject.

When the day finally came and we received the visit of old Aengus Fingal, it became clear that Colleen was saving both os us from heartbreak, because I was not to see or speak to her ever again once I was claimed by her wizard father.

He had travelled through portkeye from Fingal, Ireland and went straight to business. “ It took you too long, Colleen...I assume she has been privately tutored?”

“Yes, Father. She has a wand, cauldron, books...and is very bright.”

Aeguns sized me up and, for the briefest moment, I thought I could see him smiling. “ I will be the judge of that. Honestly, Colleen...I cannot blame you for wanting to be with your daughter, but I am disappointed you ignored Hogwarts letter of acceptance when she was eleven...well, water under the bridge, I suppose.“ The old wizard then gave us some minutes of privacy to say goodbye. It struck me as odd that he did not ask about my “father” and I had only to assume that Colleen told him her husband had died so there would be no need for a memory spell…

As expected, the trip was dreadful. I puked as soon as we landed and “grandpa” said nothing.

The property was, of course, warded against muggles and guarded from their view. It was as big as Malfoy Manor and I could not hide that I was impressed by it.

Mary Fingal, Colleen´s mother, was not amused by my appearance: “ She has our daughter's hair.” grandmother said shaking her head and then added. “ I must teach you some charms, girl…”

Only the old couple lived at the house at that point. I was curious to know what they would be telling their friends and family, as it was common knowledge they had a squib as a daughter but had not seen her in decades.

“ You are to be introduced as James daughter. He was our youngest son and died playing aingigein about fourteen years ago. As he was quite fond of travelling and had few friends, nobody will dare question us.”

I had to admit that Grandpa´s solution, while guided mostly by his own prejudices, was almost perfect, better than my original one.

Well, for what I could surmise, James was a gay guy living in the closet for the sake of family´s appearances. He would travel extensively and many believed he was visiting his squib sister in Muggle London, so Grandpa Fingal hoped to make people believe that James had simply shagged a muggle woman, died without admitting the deed and that his sister had been my caretaker for all these years.

This version of the facts- Hermione Granger, love child of star crossed lovers, raised in muggle London only to be adopted by immensely rich and pure blood irish grandparents- would make me, technically, a half blood, a much more socially acceptable prospect to House of Fingal.

Grandpa Fingal was indeed impressed with my skills and took time to train me in Occlumency, once again attempting to save his family honour from the great shame of having a muggle born among its members...

A day before I was to leave for Hogwarts, Fingal was satisfied enough with my skills to actually sit down with me and speak truthly: “You are of my blood and a powerful witch, _Hermione_.” He had learned the truth about who I was on our first lesson and seemingly did not care at all.

“At least I am protected by a double layer of lies…” I said referencing the fact that it would take hours of mental invasion for a trained legimiliens to find out the whole truth.

“You are in a far better position than you would be had you not made the decision to search for your roots, especially since Fingals are devoted to their family and would never disown someone of their blood. My daughter had to leave if she wanted to be treated with respect...it is just the way things are, you see?”

Grandpa Fingal did not sound apologetic per se, but resigned. For what I observed, it was the same with older people: they had already lived enough to accept things instead of changing them. “ Colleen is a squib, and wizards do not care for them, so nobody will search for her. Not to mention,you would be not _lying_ saying that you have been trained and tutored by your old grandfather, instead of answering Hogwarts letter in 1938.”

We travelled again through portkey and went to Diagon Alley, where everybody watched as Good Old Fingal, Pure Blood Wizard descended from Fingal, the Fearless, acquired supplies for his fifteen years old granddaughter, Mia Fingal.

***

I was happy to be sorted into Ravenclaw for many reasons. Firstly, I had become tired of being teased by the likes of more obvious gryffindors (talking about you,  Ron Weasley) for my love of knowledge, so to be in the company of those who prefered books to brooms was  refreshing.

Secondly, it took me out of the whole testosterone induced conflict between Slytherin and Gryffindor and finally, while all that gryffindor courage made me a very proud person, it did _not_ make me a happy one.

Looking back at my experiences growing up at Hogwarts, I realized many things about myself and was shocked to see that some past actions I now either regretted or was ashamed by.

For instance, I had never paid much attention to how I related to other female students and how much of my personality was defined by my belonging to the “ golden trio”. In time, I came to be friends with Luna and Ginny, yes, but I was so wrapped around the fact that I was close to Harry and Ron that I might have acted like many women do in such situations, by jealousy protecting my place as sole female among a bunch of guys.

My appearance and preferences made me a target for teasing and bullying , but here I was, fifteen again, a better  looking and more poised version of myself, an adult woman and war survivor who was getting a second chance at life.

I vowed not to make the same mistakes and not judge books by their covers.

Case in point: Myrtle Warren.

I had talked badly about her when she was a ghost and felt like a jerk when she found out and, understanbly, got mad at me. Jesus, how could I have been so stupid? Myrtle was muggle born, had pimples and wore glasses. She was ignored, teased and bullied during her stay at Hogwarts. _Of course_ her social interactions would be _awkward_ \- it would have been a miracle if Myrtle would act and behave like a normal girl since she was treated as dirty by her peers and isolated.

“Hello, you must be Myrtle...my name is Mia Fingal and it seems we have Ancient Runes and Arithmancy together other than the regular courses.”

The young girl looked positively shocked at my taking the initiative of speaking to her. Her voice was, much to my dismay, high pitched, but she was clearly making an effort of not squeaking. “ Pleased to meet you, Mia...are you from Ireland, right?”

“No, actually, I was born and raised in London, but my family Ancestral Home is in Ireland. So, how do you like the professors here? I heard that the potions one, Slughorn, plays favorites, is that true?”

I knew that socially, Myrtle could only tell me about her loneliness and bullying,therefore I decided to speak about her studies, a more neutral subject.

“Yes, Professor Slughorn has even a sort of club for those he sees as promising, mostly slytherins, of course…”

_Of course._

As I expected -or feared- Myrtle clinged to me in the first days. I did not mind, really. As much as I did find Myrtle to be immature, she was well intentioned and sweet and as studious as I was.

My improved fifteen years old self was a quiet success among the students, exactly what I had planned. Other than Myrtle, I made good friends with another Ravenclaw, Lily Lovegood- I assume, a great aunt of Luna, and I also become rather fond of Millie Mackinnon, a Gryffindor.

But I came back in time not to have a perfect Hogwarts experience; I had to become close to Tom Riddle and the first step had to come from him, we developing a organic relationship insted of a forced one.

I could not afford to fail for being too eager, or to be deemed below him for being too bland.

So, I tried to make our interactions as exciting as possible and acted as proper lady should, but with just enough edge as to make me different, interesting.

As prefect, he came to greet me on my first day. I did not see his horns, nor sensed any ill meaning behind his polite words. “ Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Fingal. Please, if you need any help, do not hesitate in contacting me. I heard you came from Ireland via portkeye...I hope the trip was a pleasant one.”

He was as handsome and charismatic as the descriptions mentioned and, despite him being an orphan and his heritage, still unknown at that point, Tom Riddle had a following among the members of Slytherin and was generally well liked by faculty and students alike- _especially_ members of the opposite sex.

Here I must add that there was a very subtle distinction being made at the time when it came to Tom Riddle and the girls interested in him : while they would openly flirt with the pure blood pupils or those with good enough social standing to provide for them as they were raised to expect, the witches would be less obvious in their intentions towards Tom, who was an orphan, and simply give him looks and giggle as he passed by, but nothing more.

In short, they would just look, not touch him.

As I cared very little about my marriage prospects, I endeavoured to be openly friendly towards Tom, which must have come to a surprise, if not a shock.

“Thank you, Mr Riddle, but as a matter of fact, it was the usual nauseous inducing portkey trip. The only good thing I can say is that is faster than broomstick...anyway, I can find you at Slytherin dungeons, I would assume...you know, in case I need assistance I am sure I will be looking after you sooner or later, Mr Riddle.”

Tom seemed pleased by my being overly nice to him, probably used to the whole cold politeness of first encounters.

The interactions between girls and boys at school were confusing to me at first. Lily and Myrtle, of all people, would answer my questions and provide me with tidbits of gossip- which I usually would not have paid attention to, but, in this case, was important for my plans, to separate foe from friend- and it made me realize that many of the pure blood families would see Hogwarts as nothing more than a finishing school for their daughters.

Many of the witches that would would go on to become professionals were either muggle born or half blood. As I had assumed, arranged marriages were pretty much the norm among the upper classes, but there were degrees in which the contracts were negotiated. For what I understood, many more " forward thinking " among the pureblood families would give their daughters _carte blanche_ to find their own husbands, provided they attended their requisites of social status and blood purity.

As a result, everywhere I looked I saw girls my age either already betrothed to be married or actively searching for a suitable match.

Therefore, Hogwarts saw more couples and _action_ in the forties than in the nineties...

Lily was a good looking blond and had been “going steady” with a Weasley of all people and she took to give Myrtle, now looking more “ presentable” after I taught her grandma Fingal's charms, and myself , advice on how to catch a wizard.  I found this to be equal parts hilarious and sexist, but I said nothing . I was in _the forties_ , before the sexual revolution and living in the notoriously retrograde wizarding world, so to catch a husband was, I had to admit, a very common worry for girls of that era...

When Lilly mentioned Tom as one of the guys who, according to her, were clearly attracted to me, I had to stop laughing.

“Not every guy is after an empty headed pure-blood princess, Mia.” Lily said on the top of her fifteen years of experience as a smart, pure-blooded princess. “ It does not surprise me that Riddle has eyes for you, who is not only lovely but very intelligent.”

Honestly, I had noticed it myself and, to my horror, was quite flattered: Tom Riddle was not only a genius, but handsome and sexy.

It started a couple of weeks before: we were having Divination class with Slytherin when I answered a couple of questions on the right use of crystal and its forms as means of seeing the future, earning twenty points for Ravenclaw.

Tom got thirty points to Slytherin that day and since then, his eyes were always on me when we were in the same room.

***

I was studying for my O.W.L.s that afternoon when Tom Riddle finally caught me alone .

“Miss Fingal, I am sure you will pass the transfiguration exam, but I must remind you that the vanishing spell is among the most complicated at this point in our studies. Do you need help?”

As a matter of fact, I did not. I had already learned all there was to learn at Hogwarts and now I studied more to remind myself of the little details one does forget when leave school behind to enter the professional world than to actually acquire knowledge.

Tom Riddle, however, was the last person I wanted to know _this_ and it suited me to spend time with the Slytherin heir. “ Thank you, Mr Riddle, but I believe my tutor has prepared me well enough for life at Hogwarts. On the other hand, it would be nice to take a break, have some fresh air. You could help me with _that_.”

Again, I notice how the normal insecurities of a fifteen years old would have prevented me from inviting him for a walk so casually befoere.

I would have never done it, good old Hermione. But Mia Fingal saw no problem in being forward and frankly, there was no problem at all...

Anyway, a walk  with _Tom Riddle_ was hardly  the same thing as asking _Lord Voldemort_ for dinner, right?.

“I would be delighted, Miss Fingal.”

We walked side by side trgough the courtyard.

I was determined to have a real conversation with Riddle.

But he was the one to break the silence, by paying me a compliment: “ Where did you study before Hogwarts, Miss Fingal? You are truly remarkable, you know that?”

“Please, call me Mia and thank you for the compliment. Coming from you, a genius, it means a lot.” I decided to answer all his questions with only truths or half truths.

Luckily, he would make enough assumptions to fill the gaps. “ I was raised by my muggle born relatives. They were very understanding of my magical abilities, but there was the question of our relationship with my grandparents and, well...I should have started classes with you and the others when I was eleven, but grandpa Fingal only came to collect me this August.”

All true. My muggle born _parents_ supported my decision to live as a witch and only when I investigated my roots did I found Fingal. Had I travelled to 1938, I _would_ have entered Hogwarts with Riddle and yes, grandpa Fingal only learned of my existence in August 1942.

“I read many books, had some classes and was tutored before coming here.” I continued, being vague enough as to make him imagine that I had many tutors other than Grandpa Fingal.

Obsessed with heritage, Riddle was more curious to know about my family ties than my previous education. “ _Mia_...you do have a lovely name. Please, you may also call me Tom. I would like us to be friends.” he said this with a smile, but him being taller than myself prevented me from seeing his eyes and judge whether the smile was honest or faked. “Your muggle born relatives tried to hide your existence from your grandfather and prevented you from attending Hogwarts for all those years?”

He sounded really indignant now and I had to steer the conversation back to the “muggles are really, really great.” territory. “Tom...I hope you will understand that this is not something I enjoy discussing. Not that I am ashamed of but it is a rather delicate matter.I would ask you not to speak of this to anyone else. The truth is that I was only recently adopted by my grandparents. The muggle relation I spoke of...she is actually a squib. She knew her father would take me away from her. I was raised with love and care, I let you know. She did send word to my grandpa when I decided it was for the best that I came here...she was only trying to help me. I do think she did not trust her father to treat me with respect due to my _heritage_ and wanted to keep me as long as she could, to protect me.”

Again, I did not lie. Colleen is a squib and she only sent word to Grandpa Fingal because I asked for her help. She indeed had reasons to think her father would not treat me well, but she knew for sure he would take responsibility for one of his blood.

Tom did not need to ask about my parents; being an orphan, he assumed the only reason I was being raised by a squib aunt was because they had died and left a half-blood girl behind and he understood why I would prefer to go by the Fingal surname.

He remained silent for a minute and I started to fear for my life. _Maybe he hates bastards too?_ When he finally spoke, his words surprised me: “ I would have done the same in your position, Mia. Your secret is safe with me. If I may give you an advice: do not speak of your parents or the squib anymore. People will assume your parents died and your grandfather took you in rather than having adopted you to give you the benefit of his name. “

Tom Riddle was so gentle in telling me this that I actually felt bad for pretending to be an orphan. _Well, it is  quite the low move anyway; better a lie than torturing children…_

It also gave me an opening. “Tom...I am glad you understood. I will do as you say. I only wanted to tell someone and I know I can trust you. You helped me a lot by listening. If you ever need the same from me, I will be all ears.”

***

Of course, I was conflicted over emotionally manipulating the future Lord Voldemort. It made me feel... _powerful_ , I guess?

But also a piece of shit.

Not being caught, however, had the effect of making me more comfortable with my actions.

Tom never brought the subject of my origins up again, nobody asked and I soon started to forget all about it in the routine of classes and visits to Hogsmeade.

I would always bring Tom some dark chocolate, seeing that he would seldom go himself. We took to spend time together and I noticed how the boys who would sometimes give me looks before, had suddenly stopped doing it.

A week later, Myrtle informed me that Tom was obviously courting me.

That he did not, by then,  came even close to kiss me, I dismissed such notion: “ We are friends, Myrtle...I am not even sure he finds me pretty, to be honest.” Which was true,since Tom had never make any comments about my general appearance, negative or positive.

“Are you blind, Mia? You are beautiful, everybody knows it. And Tom clearly demanded the others not to look at you _that_ way because you are his girlfriend.”

Ever since Myrtle caught the eye of Edward Flitwick, a short but outgoing half blood from Hufflepuff, she insisted I would be “ the next” to find a boyfriend.

I hated when our conversations turned to the opposite sex, but it seemed to be unavoidable those days. Lily Lovegood, the self proclaimed voice of reason, agreed that Tom had all but declared his love for me.

The enthusiasm for my second adolescence gone, I found out that I was as hopeless when it came to men and women relationships as I was before.

“And here comes Tom.” Lily said as Riddle approached our table. Not missing a beat, she suggested for him to take his “girlfriend” for a walk and announced that we needed “ to have the talk.”

Whatever that meant.

I was happy to play silly and finally speak about something else than my relationship status, but Voldemort, the boyfriend, made his first appearance that day. “ You know, you should start behaving like a good girlfriend...I have assumed you were the kind that needed time, but it seems you misunderstood my intentions and think we are only friends.”

Do not get me wrong: Tom was handsome, intelligent and most importantly, at this point, he had not killed anybody or started collecting horcruxes. But I was experienced enough to notice there was some darkness in him already. I saw his gang first hand and they were nasty. Surprisingly, while Abraxas Malfoy seemed to be in Tom´s good graces, he was not one of his knights. Dolohov, Nott, and Mulciber, however, were, in the lack of better word, his bitches.

I decided to play dumb. It was, I learned, the usual method of dealing with men in the forties and was serving me right. For instance, I took pains to always make less points than Tom in the classes we shared and even more difficult, not to have him realize I was allowing him to win.

“How should I behave in your opinion, Tom? I am afraid I do not have much experience in being a good girlfriend, at least not what you seem to expect…I must be doing something _right_ , otherwise you would have disappeared.”

Not a lie. I was clearly a terrible girlfriend to Ron and I had no idea how Tom envisioned our relationship.

Disappointingly, Tom expressed a desire for me to play the role of a devout and caring girlfriend. “You always brings me chocolates...you should definitely keep doing this, but instead of giving me when we are alone, you should do it when we are in public. Do not make any plans with your girlfriends before speaking to me, as I might need you. Professor Slughorn will invite you to his club and you are to attend, but with me. You may speak with other men, but never touch them...you can only touch or kiss me and, should I enter a room, you must always smile at my sight.”

Looking back, Tom had taken my hand a couple of times and yes, now I could see how, in his vision, I was failing him, because I never much cared about how I looked at him when we were in public, only in how and what I _spoke_ to him when we were in private, since my focus was to try and save his soul and , luckily, the lives of thousands.

No serious conversation with Tom took less than an hour. I was tired, but this was important. Without much thought, I suggested we go to the Room of requirement to have more privacy. I had gone there a couple of times already to have some peace of mind and it seemed the perfect place to discuss the rules of my engagement with Lord Voldemort.

As I was the one who required the room, it took the form of Ravenclaw common room, even with the ceiling painted with stars. We took our seats and Tom continued to make his wish list of what he wanted from me, his supposedly pure blood girlfriend.

In retrospect, Tom´s advice, for me not to dwell or speak too much about my origins had been as much to his benefit as mine: everybody assumed I was pure blood because of my surname, which gave _him_ the status he so craved. I was prepared to face some condescending remarks about my family being irish, but surprisingly, when one is filthy rich, prejudices take second place.

I started losing my patience; I wanted him to stop talking, to stop trying to control me. And Tom, a fifteen years old orphan, had no idea what he truly needed in a girlfriend. There was darkness in him and he would never be satisfied with a vanilla girl. He thought he would because this was what was expected socially, but he would have been bored out of his mind.

So, I had to make an impression, to show Tom Riddle that I knew better.

In the spirit of this insight, and also because I was tired,  I did then what I would do to Ron when the sound of his voice annoyed me: I gave him a blow job.

The moment I knelt before Tom, his mouth shut and his pupils, dilated. Thankfully he knew what I was doing and silently approved.

By the time I opened his trousers, Tom was already smiling.

***

His cock was huge.

I sucked him like a lollipop. Tom was definitely cleaner than Ron, which was a plus and his smell, very masculine, was less intense. Granted, my experience was limited; however I had researched a lot about sex and watched many movies to know exactly what to do. And Tom´s cock was a work of art : the bush around the base was fluffy and his balls, heavy and pink. I licked the sensitive head, as one should and proceed to pump him as my mouth engulfed his shaft.

“Yes...my good girl... my girlfriend...yes…so good!” Tom was so enthusiastic that made me really immerse myself in worshiping his cock. I found that I loved the praise and the dirty language he used. For some reason, Ron would only moan, sometimes, just say my name, a true gentleman in bed.

How could I have known that vulgarity was such a turn on for me?

I continued to swirl my tongue around his whole length and play with different speeds and alternate between light and deep succion, paying attention to his reactions. As I suspected, Tom responded extremely well to a harsher approach and when my nail dug into the skin of his left inner thigh, he laughed. “ Your claws...how nice of you!”

Some of the gryffindor in me re-emerged and I decided to take a risk. My knees were hurting me already, but I did not want to stop. If much, I wanted to take things further. I continued to stroke him while I spoke: “ Tom...my dear boyfriend. Am I being a _good_ girlfriend now?”

“Yes...the _best_ girlfriend.” He placed his right hand on the back of my head and tried to push me down and shove my face on his crotch. _So rude!_

I was having none of it: “ Ah...we should move to the sofa...I want to give you prostate some attention.”

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I knew he _knew_ what I was talking about it and the fact that he had not jumped and proclaimed his manhood or even recoiled in disgust proved that Tom´s sociopathy could be adapted into a kinkier than usual sexual life. Who knows,  getting his frustrations out with a good shag could very well end up being a great source of stress reliever for him.

 _Whatever it takes to save lives_ , I thought with myself as I prepared my pointer finger to claim Tom´s ass.

“Say something in parseltongue as I suck your balls, my love.” Tom had told me he could speak with snakes and I was very curious. At this request, he probably gave me his first untrained and  completely honest smile.

It was beautiful, so beautiful  in fact that it almost broke my heart.

My mouth, however, had work to do and being all dove eyed because a handsome man smiled at me would not help the wizarding world. Tom started hissing as I licked his balls clean, my tongue travelling down to meet and lubricate his anus and prepare for the invasion. I had no idea if i would be the first ever to have offered Tom sexual favors- I mean, we were living on a boarding school, where boys being boys and experimenting on each other was more or less to be expected and girls were eager to train for prospective husbands, as long as their maidenheads remained intact- but I vowed to sate him well enough for him not to  even think about killing anyone, at least in the near future.

_Myrtle...poor Myrtle...I am sucking his cock to save your life, friend._

As my finger entered his pinky ring of meat, my mouth worked on his large and thick cock with newfound gusto now that i was comfortable with my mission of saving Myrtle´s life. I played inside of his ass a little and when I finally found _the_ spot, Tom gave such a sexy hiss that I felt my knickers getting soaked with arousal.

“Fuck, Mia...you are perfect!” I was such a sucker for praise  and now I was sure he had noticed, for he continued to do it as he neared his climax.

When Tom finally came, I made sure to have him watch me savouring his cum. Again acting on pure kinky instinct, I leaned in for a kiss, transferring some drops of his own seed for his appreciation.

Only then I realized this had been actually _our first kiss_.

_Instead of a chaste rubbing of lips, I offered him an open mouth filled with his own semen._

He did not seem to mind, though and welcomed me in his arms. We were still fully clothed and his cock was now soft, but still exposed. I caressed his private parts as if it was crookshanks and this obviously pleased him immensely.

Even in the bliss of our first sexual encounter, Tom was possessive and the thought that I had done _this_ to anybody else emerged. “ Do not lie to me, Mia...you must have had a boyfriend before, a muggle boy, a guy who taught you how to please one´s orally.”

The de-aging potion had rendered my body new. It was an old, expensive and elaborated recipe and it took me half an year to acquire all the ingredients. The effects were lasting; it actually made one´s body go back in time, the limit being ten years and could not be consumed more than a couple of times.

I had my suspicions confirmed by a physician before Fingal came to take me to Ireland: my body was young and healthy and, as my fifteen years old had been, I was a virgin.

“I was curious and read a lot about sex to know what to do...but yes, there was a boy, I cannot lie to you, but it is in the past and I will never see him again. You will be my first, Tom...I am still, you know…”

Tom hummed his approval. “ Very well, I will forgive your past indiscretions as natural curiosity, something we have all experienced.”

“Thank you, Tom...there is nobody else, you know this. I promise you I will be your perfect girlfriend...I will be nice and proper when we are in public and you will be free to have me anytime we are together. I want to make you happy.”

_As happy as a nutcase like you can be ...I am doing this to prevent you from killing innocents and feasting on their blood._

The thing is, all I told Tom at this point had been truth. My track record, in his eyes, was perfect. He would only probe into my mind if he suspected my intentions; since he had no reason to, Tom was yet to try to use legilimency on me. He had his servants to be his dummies if he wanted to exercise his powers,, after all...

As long as I minded my words, never lied to him and sucked his cok, I had a chance.

“Mia, you are beautiful, intelligent and more than able to see to my needs. “ This should be the closest thing I would ever get to a love declaration. Of course, he complemented such sweet moment with a threat. “if you ever think about leaving me, there will be consequences. For what you just told me, I am glad to realize you already understood I am not to be toyed with. “

Playing nice had never been my forte and I kind of reached my limit there; some level of independency was needed, if I was to keep my sanity. “Tom, you should not worry about me cheating on you or being disloyal. Please, refrain from telling me such things: I am old enough to understand that a relationship with you is to be exclusive and serious. I will not shame you or anything...I am more than happy to be by your side for as long as you have me, but I cannot abide to be told more than twice to behave. I am not a child.”

“Fine; we shall not have this conversation again. You are mine and will behave as such.” He said and made a gesture for me to start getting ready. _So much for cuddling_. “I must return to my duties now, Mia; we should leave.”

Before I opened the door for us, Tom grabbed my hand and , looking into my eyes, he said: “You are in charge of avoiding an unwanted pregnancy. If you have any difficulties brewing a potion or finding a charm that should do it, tell me so I can take care of the issue. I have ambitions and to be a father is not one of them. At least not at the moment.”

I started to have second thoughts about all this, seeing that what I have changed so far was Tom Riddle reluctance in starting a family...that the guy was open to that possibility now and, from all living women, with me, was more than I could take.

 _I need a drink._ It was my last thought of the day. That night, I dreamt of cherubic babies playing with serpents.

 


	2. Dreams coming true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom finds out about his heritage and Mia becomes the heiress of Fingal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is half for fun, half serious. My depiction of Hermione and Tom sexual´s life is the closest I could write of what I think it would be to date a teenage sociopath. Self centered men tend to be selfish in bed; I had enjoyed some fics with Tom being a considerate lover, sometimes even with him being romantic, but i think he would be a man interested only in his pleasure: that his partner was also enjoying it would be a plus, and a compliment to him.
> 
> That is how selfish people tend to see things...
> 
> So, I went with that. Hermione is older and wiser, so she knows exactly who she is dealing with.
> 
> This went faster than i thought; third chapter might be over a week away as I have other two fics to finish.

Hogwarts was _my_ home. It was the only place I belonged and there, I thrived. 

Despite my talents and successes, I remained an orphan, a poor boy among a sea of high born pure bloods. I had my ambition still, chief among them to become the most powerful wizard of all time and, as such, to exercise political power over the wizarding world., to be respected, admired and feared.

Without family connections and a _name_ , I was forced to rely on my manipulation abilities and magical core to create my facade in order to achieve my goals. It would take time, I knew, but I would succeed in the end.

Determined that I was  and more than willing to use any tool at my disposal- no ethical inhibitions to contemplate- I must admit that, earlier on, I had toyed with the idea of finding myself a suitable witch of power and impeccable bloodline and make her my servant, using her name and connections as a basis for my personal agenda...

An orphan, even a talented one, would have a hard time attracting such a prize. I was considered handsome enough to flirt, but not good enough to have a relationship with. This became obvious in how the whores behaved around me. Thankfully, I was intelligent to realize the game they were playing before making a fool out of myself.

My plans did not require a wife; it was such a ordinaire, common thing to do that I was comfortable in ignoring this path. There was a long line of witches and whores to see to my sexual needs and I had never seriously entertained the idea of having children.

This is not to mean that I was _blind_ to the many opportunities and possibilities a stable relationship with a rich wife would provide me; only that such step was not paramount for my plans and that I had come to accept such reality.

I never understood the concept of romantic love. Truly, I resented the fact that women were fickle; that most witches clearly used Hogwarts as hunting grounds in their pursuit of a husband just served to reaffirm my beliefs that they were basically empty headed vessels, passing on power throught their wombs, leeping the bloodlines intact.

Then I met Mia Fingal.

I felt her magic the moment I saw her. She was  very pretty, almost beautiful. Extremely intelligent, Mia took her studies  as seriously as I did. Hogwarts, for her, was a _school,_ not a ballroom. She did not lose time or effort in trying to figure out which male member of the sacred twenty eight was still unmatched and bat her eyelashes to her victim.  Instead,  Mia spent most of her days in the library, far away from the frivolities and games of the rich, concerned in acquiring knowledge and in practicing her magic.

Even the company she kept, that awful muggle-born Myrtle and the insufferable Lovegood brat, showed that Mia cared very little about family name and connections, but was deeply interested in magical cores and in intellectual minds.

Since Mia had been incredibly and consistently forthcoming during our interactions , and seeing that she had not been flirting with other boys, I concluded the young witch was indeed open for the idea of dating a wizard of unknown parentage. Unfortunately, her family had a history of not being overtly interested in the Dark Arts, but even that I could use in my plans, to show some of the few who still doubted me that I was, after all, not _that_ bad.

As I had decided to court her, our conversations turned more personal. It was then that she revealed her real status: her bloodline was indeed powerful and her family, rich, but her parentage was less than savoury. Mia had been raised by a squid relation among Muggles for most of her life because her silly aunt could not “ trust” the half blood child to be adopted by her grandparents.

She shared this information in confidence and I was interested in keeping it that way. I thought fast: her grandfather obviously wanted her blood status to remain a secret and had given her a name. They were irish, living in Ireland...english wizards knew and respected House of Fingal, but were not particularly close to them, not to know the intricacies of that family. And nobody _cared_ to keep track of squibs anway. I knew the last Fingal had graduated from Hogwarts a good twenty years ago and that Professors and pupils assumed that Mia was a much younger sister of that wizard.

It suited me just fine.

Mia had a name, a fortune, intelligence and magical power. I was disappointed her blood was not pure as I expected, but since she was not an empty headed harpy and could be useful, I decided to overlook her bastardy, as long as it would remain a secret.

I am, after all, half blood myself.

It was not her fault as it was not mine to have been born this way.

Unfortunately, her less than stellar upbringing among muggles and the fact that she had been homeschooled made Mia clueless to the subtleties of life in the wizarding world. The girl had been officially my girlfriend for at least two weeks before she even realized it…

I almost lost my temper with her; for the first time, I spoke to Mia sternly and, as if she was a child, I saw myself explaining to her exactly _how_ and _what_ a girlfriend ought to do and behave, something I found exhaustive and frankly, bored me to no end.

Much to my great surprise- and utter admiration- Mia obviously felt the same. She quite astutely suggested we went to the Come and Go Room for more “ privacy” and seduced me on the spot.

I had had my cock sucked before, both at Hogwarts and at the Orphanage. The previous experiences had been less than satisfactory, leaving me even more suspicious of physical intimacy in particular and intimate relationships in general.

But _Mia_ …

She was a revelation.

I liked her boldness in servicing me without express approval and was genuinely aroused by her willing submission. I was aware that most of the high born witches would find such behaviour beneath them. But not Mia: she made it clear _my_ pleasure was her sole motivation for the act.

 _She knelt before me_. There was no negotiation, no nagging for me to do the same. Mia made it clear she wanted to be a “ good girlfriend”...that she wanted to cater and serve me.  

I was more than happy to let her.

 

***

Our relationship progressed in two different fronts: publically, Mia was the epitome of docile and caring witch. We would go to Hogsmeade when I saw fit and, when I allowed her to visit the village in the company of her girlfriends, she would always return with a small gift and chocolates.

Privately, Mia gave me full access to her body, whenever I wanted. Much to my concern, I found myself wanting her almost every day. I could not stop fucking that tight cunt...spanking her round ass, biting and sucking those persky breasts. I would leave so many bruises in her beautiful body that I had to heal Mia before we finally returned to our dormitories.

Our first time was almost overwhelming.

It was a week after our first encounter. I was exasperated after spending an hour in the company of Professor Dumbledore and needed a release. Usually, I would have hexed someone- a good practical exercise for my abilities- but Mia had become so adept at easing my tension with her mouth and hands that I saw myself wishing for more.

I met her at the corridor soon after I left Professor Dumbledore's office. I grabbed her by her wrist, pushed her closer and whispered in her ear: “ I will have need of you tonight...do you understand?”

I did not need to tell twice: “ Yes, Tom...as you wish. Meet me by Ravenclaw Tower; we can go to the room of requirement together.”

 

***

Tom´s idea of foreplay was to have me strip and lay down on the divan, where he proceeded to do what I can only describe as a physical examination. He mentioned something about knowing every centimeter of my body, but it was not in the expected sensual way, no intention whatsoever to test my erogenous zones or find out how responsive I was for certain stimulations...

No, Tom had obviously a morbid curiosity about the female body and he was taking this opportunity to learn firsthand.

“Your breasts are of the right size to fit my hands.” he observed with a certain pride. I smiled sweetly and he continued to move south. When he came face to face with my vagina, I hoped he would crumble and offer me some incentive, but how wrong I was…

“Spread your legs.” he commanded me. I obeyed. Cold fingers parted my folds; another one was stuck inside my channel without notice with the subtlety of a famished Weasley eating his breakfast...when Tom leaned his head and faced my pussy for a second I thought he would lick me...instead, he used his fingers to part my entrance as wide as he could  taking a long, meticulous look at my exposed flesh.

_He wants to see how it is inside._

Tom´s cock was large and it would hurt me _even more_ if the wanker was planning in simply rimming his nagini inside of me and ignoring the usual preparations.

“Tom...don't you want have a taste ?” I prompted.

“Not really...no…”

_Rude, so rude._

Well, Tom might become the future Dark Lord of the British Isles, Master of Evil and Murderer of thousands, but if he was going to claim my maidenhead, he would pleasure me or be hexed.

“ Fine...then you should stimulate my nub and gently massage my folds...once I start self lubricating, you can slide your fingers inside...it will ease the pain of my deflowering. You are rather ...well endowed.” a smile escaped from his lips at my mentioning his penis size.

_Typical._

He hesitated in following the instructions. I panicked: had Tom planned to viciously rid me of my virginity or was he only being his usual selfish self and, like most men, not interested in his partner's pleasure?

“Tom, it will hurt me if you do not do it...is that what you want?”

“No, _of course_ not...but it will hurt _anyway,_ Mia!” he defended himself by stating the obvious.

 _This is going downhill._ “Look, Tom, if you are eager for a more err... _alternative sexual experience,_ I am willing to try. _Next time._ Right now, I really need you to do this for me! And it is for your own benefit, as you are not circumcised...”

This picked his interest :“Why do you say that?”

“I will be tight because I am virgin...you will need to push inside of me and, if I am not properly wet, it might rip some of your foreskin! I do not want you to hurt myself and yourself, you see?”

Hermione Granger had been called the brightest witch of her age ( if I recall correctly) and Mia Fingal, I would like to think, was even better. Tom might have power, ambitions and a mind free of moral concerns, but he was still a fifteen years old boy. I had some years on him and a knowledge of what he was capable of. I was not forgetting myself or him, but staying in the imaginary limits he set and avoiding anything that could leave him to doubt me.

So, I agreed to give Tom Riddle my flower knowing it  full well that it would not be a romantic occasion. I had long made peace with the fact that Tom would end up being some sort of freak in bed and could only imagine that, at this point in our relationship, his inexperience would play a role and some of his insecurities surface.

But this was getting _way_ out of hand.

He considered the information for a while and offered what he undoubtedly saw as a compromise: ” I could cast this spell I heard about...you would be wet in no time!Or I could accio some oil...”

_A man wanting to take the easiest way into a women´s bed? Colour me surprised!_

I was preparing to lecture Tom on the benefits of doing some things the muggle way, of taking time and effort into intimately knowing your sexual partner, but then I remembered _who_ my boyfriend was .“Fine...cast the spell then!”

He said the incantation and watched with fascination as I started leaking slick from my cunt. Another second, and his clothes were gone.

Here is the thing: even among pro-muggles, most felt the wizarding world was better than the muggle one, that witches and wizards are not only inherently different, but superior. When I came to Hogwarts for the first time, I believed this was true.

 _Then_ I grew up and realized how far behind witches and wizards were in many things. I concluded both societies would benefit from some integration and now, more than ever, with a  lazy boyfriend refusing to go down on me and employing a stupid lubricating spell to fuck me for the first time, I vowed to take my pleasure out of Tom, even if it meant to crucio him.

Nothing substitute TRUE arousal.

Tom was gorgeous: lean, handsome and owner of a huge, fat cock. Sex was an important aspect of sour lives. He surely knew it held enormous power. It stood to reason that Tom, despite his misgivings, would want to _master_ sex, as he had mastered magic.

I would guide him.

“Hiss for me.” I told him. The tip of his cock was already in and Tom was struggling to break my barrier. I could only imagine the tightness and warmth of my heat was driving him to the edge, as Tom looked positively on the verge of some explosion.

He looked straight in my eyes as he finally broke my hymen, speaking in parseltongue as I asked him to. Being in his snake element made Tom more...comfortable, I suppose, for he suddenly was able to read- or care about- the signs my body was giving him and react accordingly.

I had no reason to worry: Tom was a natural.

“Shhsssss---Mia---sssssss- “

The fullness his huge cock offered me was exquisite and the demanding pace of his thrusts, exhilarating. _This could not possibly take long._ My walls were crumbling down, clamping around Tom and asking for more of him.

“Harder, Tom...I need more!”

He licked me, from nipple to neck, biting just close enough to my jugular to have me worried he was trying to kill me during coitos.

"Such---SLAP---a wanton---SLAP---Whore---SLAP."

As soon as he was balls deep inside of me, Tom raised himself and my arse up from the initial missionary position, firmly wrapping my right leg around his waist while the left was left hanging. It gave him more access to my cunt and liberated his hands to slap my arse.

It was not his violence that shocked me, but my enthusiastic response to it.

“Yes, Tom---fuck, yes! I am---so---close!”

With a hiss, he unloaded inside and, without pulling out, collapsed on top of me.

Tom Riddle had given me the best orgasm of my life, so forgive me if I was a bit...enamoured of him at that moment.

Yes, he was a narcissistic sociopath and an all around asshole, but I found his aggressive, demanding nature in bed to be liberating in its animalistic simplicist, like we were just too animals rutting, no timelines, no concerns over the death of thousands...

At least for some minutes, my mind would be blank and my soul, in peace.

Tom slid his member out of me, his eyes falling on the sight of his deflated prick coated in seed and blood.

”I think I like that…”

“Sex?”

He smiled. “ No, your blood on my cock.”

 

***

Mia was such a small, delicate and proper thing. I would have debased her regardless of her opinions on the matter: that she was so eager to take me in such a way was a blessing.

That she liked and suggested we engage in more debauchery convinced me even more of her worthness as a consort.

Mia looked innocent and virginal to the outside world when, in private, she was anything but.

Not unlike myself.

True to her words, she continued to spread her legs for me anytime I wished. I was crazy about fucking her when she was having her period. It also kept the concerns over pregnancy at bay. Mia favoured the use of potions, but after some weeks she tried to convince me to use a spell and render my sperm temporarily infertile. Honestly, the thought of changing something that came from my body annoyed me, but this is what you get when you tell your girlfriend to talk to you if she is having a problem…

_Lesson learned._

At least it did not take long to convince her.

“Are you sure you want this?” the poor lamb asked. “ It is going to be messy…”

“Nothing a tergeo would not clean. Come…”

The Room of Requirement was turning into our personal fuck parlour. Our meetings, while regular, had to be kept shorter than I would have preferred. There was a whole array of... _things_ I would like to do with Mia once we got married and I was working on her appetites  and endurance for my future benefit.

Naked, I sat on a chair and watched Mia undress. I preferred this way, the layers of clothes falling to the floor instead of magically disappearing.

“Now, sit on my cock and ride me like the good girl you are.”

It was delightful, the feel of her tight, bleeding quim around my cock. I grabbed her hips to further help with her movements, tired of her initial more subdued pace, forcing Mia to ride me hard, deep and unrelentlessly, her beautiful milky teats boucing  and her face, flushed.

We both climaxed after some minutes of intense physical effort. Mia would always get boneless after our first couplings and I had come to accept her need for snuggling, but never for too long. “ We should go...lest they will notice we are gone.”

Mia then invited me to spend the Christmas holidays with her family at Castle Fingal. As expected, I charmed her grandparents and played the part of perfect guest and, as such, I could only touch my private whore in a very tame and respectful way. I could have, of course, found ways to have her, but instead I focused on observing the family dynamics and their interactions with  friends and neighbors.

They both received and were invited by the Finnegans and Ryans during the two weeks break, but Fingal's heir, Domhnall, only came to stay at the Castle for two days before he travelled back to London where he resided with his wife of five years, a veela he met while travelling to Bulgaria.

As there was no grandchildren spoken of from this union, which obviously had not been blessed by the parents, had any ...well, _unfortunate_ accident happen with uncle Domhnall, Mia would be the sole heir of the family estate and fortune.

_Interesting._

I cared little for gold...my knights had enough among them and were willing to support my plans. _But they were just boys at the moment;_ their fathers were the ones controlling their millions.

Mia becoming a heiress and my wife would come in hand.

 

***

**1943**

The year Tom Riddle would find about his heritage, murder his family, become the heir of Slytherin and start his quest for immortality started with me baking a chocolate cake for him at Fingal Castle.

Grandmother was equal parts proud- the cake was delicious- and concerned, since I did it the muggle way.

“Oh dear, Tom is such a lovely boy...I am sure he will ask for your hand before you graduate...you should start by learning household charms, it will make your life easier!!

While I ressented the implications, I had to remember that I was in 1943 and such attitude was not only normal, but expected. I gently told Grandma that I would love to learn more charms to help me with household chores, however Tom was aware I had ambitions and was fine with me pursuing them.

She ignored the last part and proceeded with her lesson. I did find interesting to have some degree of knowledge in this area as I would not depend on house- elves , so all in all it was not time wasted.

It was inevitable that Tom would find out about the maternal line of his family, the Gaunts. He was obsessed with heritage, with bloodlines and not even all the copious amount of sex I was offering him would divert his attentions from discovering his magical ancestors.

Therefore, I offered him my assistance.

Being a private person, his hesitation in accepting my offer was understandable. He eventually let me in and I was able to influence much of his reactions to the discoveries we both made and, most importantly, I managed to convince him to spend most of his Summer with me in Ireland, a much better option than returning to Wool's Orphanage and , from there, confronting his inbred uncle and murdering the Riddle family.

I made a good case :” Tom, the Gaunts inbred themselves into oblivion.There is no record of _any_ Riddle family in the british wizarding world and you ended up in a muggle orphanage. The fortunes of the Gaunts and their magical abilities had suffered as a result of their pure blood beliefs. I think you should not seek them... _any_ of them.”

“Not your decision to make, Mia.” he said bitterly.

He was right, of course. I could not prevent Tom from going there, so I sought to prepare him the best I could for a great disappointment.” I do understand that, Tom. I just want you to realize that neither Gaunts or Riddles might receive you with open arms. Both might be extremely prejudiced: the Gaunts because you are half blood and the Riddles, because you are a wizard. “

In the end, Tom went to Ireland with me, just not for the entire duration of the summer vacations.

He left the Riddles in peace. I convinced to ignore the muggles, since he was going to live in the magical world.

His uncle, however, was a different matter.

The guy was _mad_ and I had no doubts Tom framed him in some way, as he ended up in Azkaban again.

 

***

Now that I knew who I was- _the heir of Slytherin_ \- I was ready to take what was mine.

The Gaunt family signet ring was mine, not that ugly beast I found living like an animal. I took his wand...I made him even madder. Being a merciful man, Azkaban seemed to be a good destination for uncle Morfin.

About the other uncle, though,  _Mia´s uncle_ …

 

***

As 1943 rolled into 1944, I had to congratulate myself on Myrtle being still alive.

She had _no_ idea Tom had caused her death in my original timeline and she simply adored my boyfriend. “ Oh, he surely is asking your hand coming Summer, Mia! It is about time, you have been going steady for well over a year…”

Lily Lovegood agreed my betrothal was imminent.” Mother gave me a book on sexual awakening when I got engaged. Most interesting reading...made me less nervous about my first night, but I still worry about the possibility of exchanging nargles during intimacies...nobody knows how the creatures reproduce themselves…”

Grandpa Fingal had liked Tom, but being pure blood, he had been worried about his status as an orphan without family affiliation. Despite all, he congratulated me on my choice of boyfriend, seeing that Tom was nothing if not respectful in front of him , a young man of unquestionable magical genius.

If only Grandpa Fingal knew Tom´s penchant for fucking my throat after DADA classes…

Once Tom got the ring and the confirmation his mother had been Merope Gaunt, things moved even faster and, again, I found that both Lily and Myrtle had been right:Tom had already owled Grandpa and asked for his blessing and he informed me our engagement party would be held at Castle Fingal last week of August.

We were both seventeen.

He must have lied to Grandpa on how he acquired the beautiful diamond ring. I knew the Gaunts were paupers and I imagined Tom would like to keep anything of magical value- books, family heirlooms- he might have found at the shack.

His uncle had already died at Azkaban, so I figured Tom had sold the awful place for some galleons and perhaps he led grandpa to believe it was enough to buy the ring…

...or perhaps grandpa was still so distraught by the death of his youngest son and heir two months prior that he only cared about his line, somehow, living through me.

 

***

**1945**

The american kingsnake was considered to be among the best pet snakes. I knew this from my original timeline: before going to Hogwarts there was a boy at my school whose father owned a pet´s shop and dealt with snakes.

It was a beautiful animal, placid enough to be kept in a household while maintening most of its the basic instincts intact : the snake would hunt and feed from small animals and even other snakes, something I knew it would make Tom _very_ happy.

The crate in the middle of our living room made him smile:“Mia...is _this_ what I think it is?” Tom looked like a child unwrapping presents under a Christmas tree.

“Yes, Tom...my wedding gift for you. Luckily, she will enjoy our backyard.”

We married at Castle Fingal, a month after our graduation and almost all pure blood families of the british islands were in attendance, showering Tom with attention and us, with gifts.

As I was Fingal's heiress now, grandpa gave me- actually, he gave it to Tom, who as my husband, _owned me_ \- a vault at Gringotts. We went house hunting with the help of grandma Mary- since they were footing the bill, they wanted to see how we were spending the gold- who exasperated Tom enough for me to ask him one day if he was glad he was an orphan.

If looks could kill, I would have fallen dead.

_Oops._

I suggested a cottage somewhere near the sea, imagining one day Tom would drive me crazy enough for me to push him down a cliff. Perhaps sensing the risk, Tom said he favoured the countryside and, as such we finally purchased a spacious two store, four bedroom cottage in North Yorkshire, spacious enough for us to entertain family and friends without the assistance of house-elves.

“Why don't we welcome Nagini into our small family, Mia? Remember your promise…”

I _did._

Tom spoke with the snake as I undressed. Nagini seemed to understand and agree with her master's wishes. Hissing to him, she came to my side. I remained calm, Tom's eyes on the snake rather than on his wife.

 _Bastard_.

Snakes are cold and the contrast between my warm skin and her freezing leather gave me goosebumps. Tom hissed again his commands and the snake used her body to bound my wrists above my head.

“You asked me long ago to lick you…” Tom said sheepishly.

“Are you going to ?”

He did not answer; instead, he pointed his wand to my cunt and, with a wordless incantation, he rid my private area of all pubic hair.

_Practical._

His long tongue was positively snake like. Tom turned out to be quite skilled at eating my pussy, his mouth all but massaging my folds with a most delightful pressure. He sucked me so thoroughly and aptly, sometimes even playing with my pearl, that my clitoris, engorged from all the stimulation, did ressemble a small penis.

Tom _loved_ it: “What a beautiful thing you have between your legs, Mia…”

Nagini hissed above my head, perhaps asking to join the fun. After I climaxed in his mouth, Tom announced his intentions of claiming my last virginity. “I have waited long enough, don´t you think?”

I mentally rolled my eyes.

“I think I should lay with my arse up...being on fours for the first time might be too intense. Are you fine with it, Tom?”

“Yes, I like to see your arse in this position...pity you do not get to see it, you have a lovely rear.”

He was being all too relaxed and pleasant about it ,so I started to suspect he would be more aggressive than usual.

As it often happens, I was _right_.

But I ended up liking it anyway.

Tom used my own juices to coat his cock and used his saliva as lube for my arsehole.

No, Lord Voldemort did not lick me there: he spat on it.

_Fine. Carry on._

The burning sensation was much more intense, my inner muscles fighting the intrusion. Tom, perhaps keeping in mind my words about his sensitive foreskin, did not use of brutality at first, slowly claiming each centimeter of my hole in a calming, steady pace.

Only when he had filled me completely, Tom began to rock his hips as fast and hard as she could, fucking my arse with wild abandon.

By then, Nagini had freed my hands and moved next to Tom, hissing words of incentive in parseltongue.

(This would become a regular occurrence.)

I was crying, panting, moaning, writing beneath him...it was almost intoxicating the way Tom fucked me , so raw and intense and the pleasure I took was both the enjoyment of the action and the re affirmation of my intent: I had made the right choice.

“Tom---so good---so good.”

I was having one of those mind blowing orgasms...I did not even notice that Tom had slid fingers inside my cunt, so wet I was.

“ You are leaking...such a whore you are, Mia.”

When Tom was about to come, he pulled out.

“ I want to cum in your face.”

And  so he did…

 

***

 

My plans had changed: it was clear that Tom had enough dark in him _not_ to seek power for powers sake, so my goal now was to temper him and thus, influence his followers. His hatred for his father and muggles in general turned into a disregard and, because he was now a married and rich man, he did not disappear for ten years and drowned himself in Dark Arts.

Instead, Headmaster Dippet chose to ignore Professor Dumbledore´s objections and gave Tom Marvolo Riddle, a young, but married man, brilliant former student, beloved by faculty members, the post of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

In this timeline, I had decided to pursue a career in the Healing Arts. I applied and was accepted for apprenticeship at St Mungo's and spent most of my weekdays there, flooing in the evenings while Tom would stay at Hogwarts- _with Nagini_ \- and just come home on Sundays.

After spending the last couple of years engaged in such a strongly sexual relationship, now that we lived mostly apart, our Sundays were spent almost entirely abed.

Or in our dark room, where Tom used as both Lab for his researches and as a sort of sexual dungeons for our sessions.

I had no complaints.


	3. Breaking Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Tom and Mia start their own family and he starts to change the wizarding world, she finds out that some things could not be changed.

**1962**

I had long assumed 1962 would be an important year for our small family life because our firstborn, Henry Fingal Riddle-Gaunt would turn eleven in May, but what I have not anticipated was that 1962 would be the beggining of my life turning into a shit show of epic proportions.

1962 was the point of no return.

Forgive me for not having _noticed_ the signs at first; I had been busy juggling my career, raising two children almost on my own and catering for the sexual appetite of the Dark Lord I so foolishly married…

Although I am about to take drastic measures to mitigate my oversight, I still look back at the first years of our union with fondness.

One night, after we had shared a very nice dinner and I was doing the dishes, Tom surpised me by wrapping his hands around my waist and kissing my neck. It will remain as my happiest memory, not matter how badly we are surely to end.

By that time I was in the last months of completing my education at St Mungo's( where I specialized in neurological damages caused by Unforgivables- probably my personal attempt at helping future victims of my husband's love for the cruciatus curse) when Tom  joyfully informed he wanted me to be the mother of his children.

“Nagini is tired of being a single child…” he mentioned casually.

Tom, with his usual tenderness, pulled my knickers and moved me from the sink to the table. In a matter of seconds, he had me bent over and I felt the expected sensation of being invaded by a large cock without proper preparation.

In no time, I was soaking wet.

The fucking snake came from our backyard and nested atop of the  kicthen counter, a very good place for her to watch as Tom bred me ... during the act, they spoke in parseltongue, her master frantically thrusted inside of me, they hissing back and forth as I neared a climax .

With a long, loud  and final hiss, Tom unloaded inside and quickly pulled out, his cold semen leaking from my cunt down to my ankles.

He left the kitchen without much of acknowledging our coupling. Used to his callousness- which actually now aroused me to no end- I promply recovered and went about cleaning myself at the kitchen sink.

For the first time, Nagini seemed sympathetic to my plight, hissing instinctively to get my attention. When I finished with what I was doing, I turned to his pet snake and looked her in the eyes.

It was then that I _knew_ Henry had been conceived.

_Massster should have been less rough...did he hurt you, Misstress?_

I remembered that Harry had been able to speak with snakes because he was a horcrux...having a piece of Tom, of Slytherin blood inside had granted me the same ability, at least for the time being.

_Thank you for your concern, Nagini...but we both know Tom is the way he is. I don't mind anymore...he had a way of making it good, regardless._

Nagini nodded. _Snakes have no time for love. Survival is important. I told Massster you are not a snake, you are not like us...he said you accepted him._

_I did, yes...Nagini, do you think he will be a good father?_

Nagini shook her head. _Snakes are not good parents. Snakes are too worried about finding the next prey. Massster says having children is important, that you are going to be a good mother while he works._

When the pregnancy was confirmed, Tom's presence in our home became even scarcer if that was possible. I had planned on luring him back to our bed after the baby was born, maybe even going as far as baiting Tom in engaging into some lactation kink- following the freudian oral fixation theory, Tom, being orphaned at birth, would have not grown out of that phase- but his traumas kept him away.

Mother was a word that left him with a terrible taste in his mouth and now that I was one, Tom was weary of me.

Socially, yes, he was present: birthdays were celebrated, holidays were spent at Castle Fingal and he took to accept more and more invitations for other functions, where we would no doubt be seem as the picture perfect family.

But as soon as it was all over, Tom would drop us on our home, fuck me in the arse to get the edge off him, and then leave for Hogwarts without a look back.

_Rude, selfish and delicious._

Then a couple of years later, he announced that we needed to have a daughter; we had just come from visiting Malfoy Manor and met the (still) innocent baby Lucius.

His intentions were clear: Abraxas had promised to bethrote his heir to our daughter, so Tom was very eager for one.

In appearance, Henry was a clear mix of both his parents: he had my curls, but Tom´s hair colour; his eyes, but my nose. As his father did not spend much time or effort in his education, and much to my relief, Henry became a Fingal through and through. Other than his terrible temper- Tom was obviously very proud the first time he witnessed Henry throwing an epic thrantum- and his affinity for snakes, our son took after me and my family, to the point I worried he would be sirted at Gryffindor.

Rose Merope Riddle- Gaunt, however, was the spitting image of her father.

Ever since he came from the Gaunt shack with that Ring, Tom had added his mother´s surname to his father´s, the status of being the last male descendant of Salazar Slytherin allowed him such privelege, he explained.

Tom was over the moon with Rose, looking at her with such pride that I seriously mistook it for love. “ She is a beautiful baby, a princess, Mia... _my_ princess!”

For a second, I thought Rose would melt Tom´s cold heart, but once again his plans took precedence over his family.

When Rose turned one, Tom insisted we threw her a lavish birthday party.” No expenses spared.” he said. Which meant I was to withdraw some gold from my Gringotts account if my salary would not cover it.

Tom paid the bills of our house and nothing else. Not that I minded- I knew Hogwarts basically paid his professors with peanuts- but it just annoyed me that he enjoyed to live above our means...

By then, we had expanded the cottage. It was far from a Manor, but not a humble house either. We also bought more land, enough space for Nagini to hunt in peace. Grandma Mary had been insisting for me to have a house elf. I settled for an old couple she had at Castle Fingal who  were famous for being quite opinionated. I gave them clothes and a salary and put up with their odd ways.

They were quite the hard workers and turned my backyard into a beautiful garden, where we could receive my friends and family and Tom´s contacts for afternoon teas and small celebrations.

It was there, in our lovely garden, that Tom Riddle-Gaunt announced the betrothal of our recently weaned daughter to three years old Lucius Malfoy.

 

***

Back to how I finally caught up to my sociopath husband…

Tom impregnated me once again; this time, he did not even announce his intentions. I spread my legs for him, happy that he showed some interest for anything other than my arse - his favorite method against conception- and so immersed I was in his fat cock I failed to notice the signs: Sirius Black had just turned one and Walburga was heavily pregnant of another boy.

Nagini was the one to alert me as Tom left to the loo:

_Massster bred you again, silly._

I could barely lift an arm, so tired I was. Tom had been insatiable and yes, I thoroughly enjoyed his attentions once again.

What can I say?Tom was a jerk, but he was _my_ jerk.

_Let me guess...he wants a girl? Well...he cannot choose that...right?_

Nagini was visibly getting fed up with my innocent ways. _Massster researched old books...gave you something sweet to drink...made two girls tonight._

Tom returned from the bathroom and I had to to confront him: “ Nagini informed me I am carrying twins...apparently to be betrothed to the House of Black.”

“Nagini is well informed...I am very glad you are friends with her.” Tom said matter of factly. “ It saves me time this way. We have better things to discuss…”

Tom had been a darling of the Ministry for as long as I could remember; through the years, he had been offered many positions and always declined, citing his “ passion for teaching” as a reason. Now that the Department of Magical education was without a Head, Tom decided it was more than time to leave Hogwarts behind.

As he prepared to officially start his ascent to Power, I took an unpaid leave from St Mungos and spent my days trying to survive morning sickness.

The wizarding world did not believe in maternal leave, but due to my high profile and my strong work ethic, I was able to negotiate with the hospital  to have, between vacations, compensation days and extra hours, six months of down time to properly care for my babies and heal. Grandma Mary would often help with the kids once I returned to work- part time, mind you- but I had to look for a more definite solution, as everybody knew twins were double trouble…

So, I paid a visit to a certain Eileen Prince at Cokeworth. I met Eileen at  Hogwarts, where she was some years behind Tom at Slytherin. Since she was a member of a pure blood family that supported Tom, we had been on friendly terms before she finally broke away from her home and went to marry Tobias Snape.

I was among the only ones from the wizarding world that still kept contact with Eileen, which must have been a surprise for her, who had never been particularly popular. I visited her when Severus was born and witnessed first hand her marital problems:Tobias Snape  could not accept that Eileen was a witch and had slowly descended into alcoholism.

Eileen stayed more out of pride than anything. As she had been disowned and, as a witch, did not have muggle documents to go by, her prospects were indeed limited.

So, I went to Spinners End and offered her a way out :

“Come to Yorkshire with me, Eileen. Tobias has changed and is sick; he is not the man you fell in love with anymore. He is killing himself and there is nothing you can do to stop him...he obviously made his choice.”

She resisted. I knew very well how difficult it was to end a relationship- even when you are not in love anymore- and Eileen had been not only disowned, but denounced by her family.

She had, in short, palpable reasons to fear her return to the wizarding world: “ Some consider me to be a blood traitor; if I stay here for the next ten years, by the time my boy enters Hogwarts, people will have forgotten about me. It might be easier for him this way.”

“Nobody would dare say something or do something against you...my husband is respected. “ _feared, really._ “ Severus would be raised with my children in a comfortable house in a small magical community and you would have no need to appeal for Hogwarts charity funds to cover the costs of his education...chances are he would be sorted into Slytherin and you know your how House works better than me; Severus having the right godparents will work in his favour when time comes.”

She moved in with us the next month.

 

***

I had not forgiven Tom for using our children as pawns in his games, but being stuck in such a unequal marriage in  a very retrograde society gave me few tools to fight back. My goal remained the same: influence him in not becoming a Dark lord.

His nature, however, could not be denied: Tom would always crave power and use unorthodox methods to achieve it.

Therefore, I supported Tom and his more attainable dreams in any way I could while also collecting enough evidence to neutralize him if it ever came to be.

The twins Coleen Jane Riddle-Gaunt and Mary Louise Riddle-Gaunt were born in May 1963 and promptly betrothed to Sirius and Regulus Black in another lavish birthday party.

The next year, he was made Minister of Magic.

 

***

**1964**

 

Catering for pure blood supremacists while having a very liberal minded wife was proving to be as tiring as I had imagined.

Placating my followers with bethrotals linking them to my family through blood was the easiest way I found to silence their whinging. I had been working on fertility charms and spells for years now and managed to combine a couple of them in order to be able to choose gender to best suit my needs. Mia was delicious as ever, but my time was limited: efficiency was very important and also creating the illusion of a happy family.

However pleasurable our time together was, even I knew not to expect Mia to pop out girls every couple of years.

My children were beautiful, strong and powerful. I could not have been more proud. Old Fingal was glad to take over the more mundane aspects of parenting, teaching them how to fly a broom  and ward their bedrooms, for instance. I saw them often enough in my opinion, but I could feel Mia thought differently.

As usual, she did not complain but went about finding her own solutions to raise the kids since I was not helpful. Could not blame her for her idea of hiring a governess: considering _she_ was the one having problems with my absences, it was fair that she  be the one to find help elsewhere without bothering me.

When I was not working or visiting my family, I was travelling the world in search of dark artifacts and knowledge. My position as Minister of Magic gave me enough leeway to do as I please, provided appearances were kept.

Mia continued to work; she was now interested in a science called genetics and was conducting a study on the cause of squibs. Everybody with half a brain knew the causes: bad luck and inbreeding. But she went about _proving it_ to the wizarding world and I had to indulge my wife sometimes.

So I let her.

She invited the disgraced Eileen Prince to our house to act as a tutor to our daughters. Walburga Black had a fit, went to my office to demand explanations on why a blood traitor was near her future daughters in law and I had to suck her clit into submission until she finally calmed down and agreed to leave Mia be.

_The things I do for my wife…_

Personally, I would have preferred to crucius the silly woman until she minded her tongue but I was not a teenager anymore and my methods of persuasion have become more.. _.sophisticated_ \- especially when it came to the Black women, who worshipped me like their own private baby Jesus.

As much as I did not mind muggle borns per se, I considered the world they had come from a menace to our way of life, but was curious to know exactly how some powerful wizards came from muggles, so my wife´s research proved to be useful in due time.

I had never doubted her intelligence and trusted she would find the answers she sought, but even I was surprised when Mia came with the results and the evidence to back up her theory.

As Minister of Magic, I was just too glad to do something about it.

Mia had been over the listings of Hogwarts students in the last fifty years and worked the genealogy of those known to have spawned squibs.The first conclusion was that, going back to as far as eight generations in some cases, all muggle borns descended from squibs that were integrated in the muggle world. This theory, had been , of course, proposed for a long time, but nobody much cared to prove it, since who would keep track of squibs?

The second and most important finding was that pure blood unions had , in average, 30% more chances of producing squibs offspring than half- blood pairings.

Mia then worked on how to deal with her discovery in practical terms: “ Muggle borns upon entering Hogwarts should be asked to present their family records; the more in depth, the better. Once we established who the squib in the lineage was, the wizarding family should take a role in integrating the half blood into our society, something like spending a holiday of the year together and going through their History…”

What Mia suggested was to have the Sacred Twenty Eight accept the idea that there were _no muggle born wizards_ , only _long lost half blood ones_ , forced _by the pure bloods_  to live among Muggles for the time magic skipped generations.

 _She was that naive,_ to think pure blood supremacists would _willingly_ welcome mixed blood distant relatives into their families because they had expelled their ancestors long time ago, like they would even take responsibility for disowning squibs...

I could indeed force Hogwarts to make this a new practice and have them discreetly inform of their findings to the responsible wizarding family, but as a Minister elected by those pure bloods to rule for them, I would say they were to acknowledge the half bloods their families unwillingly spawned.

I told Mia so and she then suggested the families that opted not to have any relationship whatsoever with their half bloods should donate some gold to fund their education.

This, I had to admit, was doable, especially if said donations would be anyonymous and their shames, kept under the rug.

***

In time, a much more pleasurable idea was forming in my head to deal with the squibs-muggle borns problem.

I had an unofficial meeting with the Heads of the pure blood families that supported my cause and explained the research, not mentioning it was my wife who had been behind it. I made absolutely clear that their fertility rates were apalling, discreetely putting blame on  them for the state of things ( this always worked!) and strongly suggested that broadening their genetic pool would help decrease the number of squibs and provide them with bigger and better wizards and witches.

When I suggested they started breeding with the muggle borns, the ones that came from their own squibs at least, some barked: “ You mean we should marry them? Give them our name and magic?” Cygnus Black asked incredulous.

“Don't be absurd: if you wish to marry your pure blood cousin, who am I do deny you your heart's desire? No, I meant to establish a system of concubines. You could all come to agreements with a couple of muggle born witches- especially those ones that came from your lines- and have them carry  your children. Or have your sons entre in arrangements with them before they are to marry their pure blood fiancees. The half bloods born out of squibs would have to receive some advantages to raise the kids on their own, as to not embarrass your wives, and in case your wife is infertile, you could even legally made your bastards into heirs. “

The idea of having a sanctioned harem of young witches appealed to everybody in that room and  it was clear that the concubine would be approved in record time.

“What about the boys?” Abraxas Malfoy asked. “ You do not suggest to have them breed our daughters?”

“If the infertility problem comes from the male line, the male magical son of a squib line could be asked to donate his seed. There are also enough pure blood widows and spinsters in need of companionship, witches you do not care to touch, and well... _males_ of a different persuasion, who would be happy to receive those wizards in their homes.”

I sweetened the deal by saying we could reform the education system in such way that muggle-borns would _always_ be behind pure-bloods and half-bloods until they themselves chose to bond with a family.

“They either chose the wizarding world not only with words but with actions, or they must leave.”

 

***

Over and over again, I mentally reminded myself of my successes within this new and improved timeline. Tom would never be a good man- this I had come to accept early on- and he was too powerful and ambitious to be pleased with a  perfect family and a Ministry job, but I prouded myself in stearing him away from the path of horcruxes.

Even when Tom showed to me how much of a bastard he was, I smiled and told myself that he was _my_ bastard.

Yes, I loved him so.

My mission was not to save Tom Riddle´s soul, but to avoid destruction and prevent lives from been ruined or taken.

On the surface, I have prevailed: Myrtle Warren was no longer an annoying ghost stuck at Hogwarts, but the owner of a book store and a dear friend;  Hepzibah Smith had not been murdered but died in her sleep a couple of years ago, as so did Tom´s natural father and, in the end Tom had managed to become Minister of Magic, not by force, but by legitimate means.

_But so had Hitler._

When Tom passed that Concubinage Law, I was furious; he promptly added provisions to protect the muggle borns from domestic violence, stipulated alimony and granted them rights for divorce as I suggested and for a time, I was pacified.

Soon, the pure blood  and half blood wives were also pushing for divorce laws to be passed and  _I was among them_.

Tom, once again, proved to be well prepared: he managed to find an old, forgotten Wizarding Law that stipulated the cases a magically binding marriage could be dissolved. This quieted most of the voices raised and solved his poilitical problems.

I, on the other hand, knew better: so many pre requisites were stipulated in this Law that it was still virtually impossible to  be granted a divorce.

_and it is not like Tom could not enforce his Laws if he needed to._

I loved Tom, my husband, the father of my children.

However, I was not blind: Tom was only playing by the rules because he had fun bending them.

If- _when_ \- he was to decide he tired of such games, he would crush his opposition with the impersonal rutheless I knew he was capable of.

_This Lord Voldermort is not the monster out of children´s stories, the obvious bogeyman._

 

***

**Educational Reform Approved: Muggle Borns allowed five years of education; Seventh Year only possible with sponsorship of a pure-blood!**

 

_With only their OWL's, the affected muggle borns will end up in dead end jobs, unable to move up the social ladder of wizarding world._

 

**Squibs rates increasing, Minister Tom Riddle-Gaunt approves second marriages between Pure Bloods and Muggle- Borns - “ Strong family ties, even those temporary, will bridge the gap between our worlds.”**

 

_He manages to make concubinate sounds like the best option in the world._

 

And in 1968, the last straw:

 

**Tom Riddle-Gaunt acclaimed Minister of Magic for Life by the Wizengamot!**

 

_He must have made at least one horcrux and he is now forever King in all but name._

 

***

I quit my job as a Healer and researcher at St Mungos in order to investigate my husband, already planning his destruction.

In my timeline, Tom had managed to create seven horcruxes, of which he knew of six.

The problem with disrupting the timeline was that I now had no idea exactly how many horcruxes Tom had and where they were.

But I was his wife, his partner, his mate.

I would find them; I would destroy them without his knowledge.

And then, I will kill him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finally deals with her problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcement:
> 
> Part 2 of my series is now available:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177302/chapters/35196671
> 
> The tone is very different from the present fic, but consider giving it a try if you here for Tom and Hermione.

**1969**

 

Wizards not only lived, in average, longer than muggles, but they also were immune to many diseases that would be deadly if caught by a non magical person.

There were, of course, some exceptions: take for instance sexually transmitted diseases. I mean, the _really_ nasty ones. Let's say a wizard had depleted much of his magical core and somehow entered in a temporary liaison with an infected muggle and was not able- or did not care to- run a quickly diagnosis spell on his prospective sexual partner.

Well, this wizard would be _fucked._

The greatest advantage of being a muggle born is the easy access to both worlds. I don't even think Tom paid attention to me when I said I was taking classes in a Muggle University...

I might have or might have not speed up my  muggle education and becoming a Doctor in record time using magic and forging my credentials and school certifications…

Anyways... about my mission of killing Tom : when I quit my job at St Mungo's, I casually mentioned I would still be researching, which  I did. But while I left it implied the research would be conducted at St Mungos, I was really working St Mary, where I  was quickly entrusted in handling some of the most deadly viruses and bacterias mankind has ever seen on a regular basis.

It did not take me too long to choose my weapon.

 

***

Tom might have been a genius, but he was a predictable one.

For instance, why the hell would a person turn historically important magical artifacts or family heirlooms into horcruxes?

Why not a stupid tea pot for instance?

Something that nobody would even care to took twice?

I went to the usual suspects: the diary, the ring, the locket…

_Bingo. Bingo. Bingo._

Criminals like Tom can spend years without getting caught if they commit their crimes with discretion and intelligence, but sooner or later they develop a need for recognition and set on leaving a trail behind them.

Luckily for me, Tom wrote about his many deeds in that bloody diary, which saved me a great amount of time all things considered.

It shoud have shocked me when I found that my uncle, Domhall, had been used to make his first horcrux but it all made sense and I cursed myself for not seeing the truth behind it sooner. Tom was about seventeen when he killed Old Fingal´s son. It was deemed accidental  and, at that time, I did not even blink an eye because of Fingal's men propensity to die during sports practice, not to mention I had recently been engaged to Tom and was convinced that since he had not killed anybody at Hogwarts and had never went after his muggle father, that Tom had simply not commited murder.

The second person he killed was a nameless and old prostitute Tom picked up in London and the third, an albanian peasant.

The diary, I remembered, had been destroyed using the fang of a basilisk. I had long mastered fiendfyre and asked myself whether it would be possible, now that I was more skilled, to have the diary burn as well.

But the opportunity to open the damn Chamber of Secrets and killing Tom's pet was too good to pass.

 

***

For the first time in years, I returned to Hogwarts with the express purpose of speaking to Dumbledore, a man I had long admired, but not personally liked.

“Mrs Gaunt-Riddle, what a pleasant surprise!” The old wizard said as he sat on a comfortable chair behind his desk.”  Lemon Drop?”

“No, thank you, Headmaster.” Those sweets were supposedly laced with veritaserum; knowing Dumbledore I wondered if he would have added something even more sinister when dealing with the wife of the Dictator of Britain, a man he despised and opposed.

” I am here because I need your help to stop my husband. I know for a fact you have never trusted him and it pains me to say that you have been right. Despite my best efforts, my husband has become a slimy politician, an absent father, a serial cheater and an overall jerk, and if we do not stop him, he will be the next Dark Lord.

For a long time, I turned a blind eye to his many misdeeds as I knew Tom would never become a Law Abiding Citizen, but I recently discovered that he made three horcruxes. I know where they are, how to destroy them and I need your assistance to kill the basilisk he keeps in the Chamber of Mysteries and to speak with the Grey Lady, to see if Tom has also managed to find Ravenclaw's diadem.”

“I have always knew the child was a bad seed.” Dumbledore said in a somber tone.” When you came around and Tom started to court you, I had hoped the love he had for you would save his soul...but he is not capable of love.”

“You are wrong; he does _love_ me...and _trusts_ me. I am here to spurn his love and break his trust because Tom Riddle does not deserve me, or the children we made together. He does not deserve to be admired; he does not deserve to be feared; he does not deserve to be loved.

I am here because Tom must be put down, like the rabid dog he is. 

I have reasons to believe he will not stop until he makes seven horcruxes. I found three and he might have made his fourth. The Diadem of Ravenclaw should be somewhere in Albania, where he had been travelling for the last three years.

Now that you know, Headmaster, are you going to help me or not?”

 

***

Henry was, like his father and sisters, a parselmouth and despite having quite a temper, the similarities with Tom stopped there.

Our son worked at Gringotts in Ireland, to be near the old man who had raised him as his father should have. Old Fingal and Grandma Mary were still in good health and Henry spent most of his weekends with them, at Castle Fingal, where he could fly his broom and play gobstones before going to bed.

Tom had allowed his only son the privilege of choosing his own bride- provided the woman came from the families that supported Tom´s agenda, of course - and Henry had been dating Andromeda Black , who was a year behind him at Hogwarts, keeping their long distance relationship through owls and floo visits.

I was very happy with this match, but wondered if Andromeda would still fall in love with Ted Tonks in this timeline; originally, they were married around 1972 and had Nymphadora the year after. Tom was less impressed with Henry´s choice though and had even suggested our son to forget about the middle sister and go for “ the eldest” one.

There were many things I had come to accept for the sake of my marriage, my sanity and my mission, but I drew a line at having Bellatrix Black as daughter in law.

(Later, reading his diary I found out that Tom had been fucking “Bella” ever since the girl turned fourteen, so the fact that he had  offered his teenager mistress as a prospective bride to his son had only added to his ever growing list of crimes in my estimation.)

Henry came when I asked him to; he hissed at the Chamber´s entrance, opening it before our eyes.

Dumbledore killed the monster- who according to Henry was called Basilea- with the sword of Gryffindor. Henry and I agreed to have Slughorn harvest the beast to collect potions ingredients, as long as they kept our “ treason” of Tom a secret.

 

***

As it turned out, Tom had not  yet found the Diadem of Ravenclaw. He had mentioned to me that he would soon “ visit friends in Albania” and the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw  did not give him the exact location of the piece.

We breathed in relief and went about destroying the horcruxes we had.

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Scandal! Scandal! Walburga Black and her niece, Bellatrix, committed to St Mungo's, infected by sexually transmitted muggle illness!**
> 
>  
> 
> _Both Members of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black are now implicated in the forced prostitution scandal we uncovered  the previous week, when we reported that aurors had freed five young, muggle born wizards, who were being kept in a cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade for the last two months into what supposedly would have been their sixth year at Hogwarts._
> 
>  
> 
> _Not coincidentally, the House of Black had sponsored those youngsters, but instead of seeing to their education, the wizards were being used as stallions!_
> 
>  
> 
> _According to one witness, as the boys were previously inexperienced, Walburga and Bellatrix sought “assistance” of a muggle Madam called Ekatherina Molotov, also known as Kate Mol, to train the young men and turn them into “ sex machines”._
> 
>  
> 
> _The training led to several encounters with both male and female professionals and clients, and a sexually transmitted disease called syphilis spread._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Luckily, the young muggle born wizards had strong magical cores that withstood the advance of the disease.” Medwizard Smith said. “ They will make a full recovery and be returned to their families. “_
> 
>  
> 
> _When asked about the health of both Ladies Black, Medwizard Smith replied with a “ No comment.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Our sources, however, tell us they are on the blink of death; usually, the infection could take up to ten years until it reached the final stage, but, as the source put it “ since both women had severely depleted their magical cores, were known to keep strict diets in order not to put weight and had developed quite the appetite for lust potions and muggle drugs, the infection now has spread beyond our control.”_
> 
>  

***

 

HAHAHAHAHA!

 

***

 

In my researches to bring Tom down, I had found out that , as I had expected, many members of the Sacred Twenty Eight had been using their newfound power to either blackmail young witches and wizards into offering them sexual favors or even using of Imperio to have their own ways.

My revenge on both Bella and Walburga served many points in my Agenda: for starters, it brought to light the crimes the pure blood were committing against muggle borns, crimes all but sanctioned by Minister Tom Marvolo Gaunt-Riddle. Despite all the protective measures I forced him to write into to the Law, the purebloods felt themselves above it.

Secondly, I exposed the most racist members of that family as nothing more than the petty criminals they were. While neither Bellatrix nor Walburga would come near the muggle born wizards willingly as it was implied, they both worked in the “family business” by torturing the boys when they did not behave for instance, so I did not feel any guilt by throwing them to the wolfs.

Finally, I brought them down in the worst humiliating way possible, implying that their magic was weaker than of those muggle born boys, and that this had been the reason for their deaths.

Both my hands and wand remained clean when they finally died.

As for the boys: I did not infect them. They were visibly shaken from the experience and I made sure the House of Black would pay reparations ( I had made Tom add this clause against domestic violence not for nothing) and all five requested to be obliviated, but their physical health was intact; I merely filled their report with the right words and left Mediwizard Smith come to the right conclusions.

 

***

Tom´s boggart had been the image of his lifeless body; he killed three people to achieve immortality because he was scared of Death.

I do not know whether he had considered creating the philosopher's stone, a much cleaner, but also almost impossible, method of avoiding death, or whether he had even tried before opting for horcruxes.

Perhaps Tom felt he would never be able to work in a formula that would work before he was too old to enjoy the benefits...or perhaps he chose what he perceived to be the easiest, surest way to be immortal, since he obviously did not care about killing human beings and saw no problems in blaspheming historical magical artifacts.

Do you know that cliché of the villain capturing the good guy, just to miss the chance of eliminating this enemy by endlessly going through motivations, describing the methods, gloating about it, only  to be led on, the good guy buying time with questions and fruitless pleas until finally finds a way out of the jam?

Well, I did not fall into this trap.

I never asked him why he had done it, and I never explained him why he was dying.

Tom, my husband, my love, my burden,  passed away in my arms. I protected him from the scandal, because by protecting him I was making sure our children would live without the shame of knowing their father was a piece of shit.

His decline was steady and fast enough for him not to notice it; Tom thought he had caught a cold.

One day he simply passed out at work and never woke up.

 

***

**1991**

I went to Kings Cross, Platform 9 ¾ not as the Minister of Magic, but as the proud grandmother of eight lovely children,  with five already attending Hogwarts:

Henry indeed married his Andromeda Black and they had a son and a girl in 1973. The birth left his wife unable to carry more children and Henry decided the Gaunt-Riddle name would die with him , as he named his son Domhnall Marvolo Fingal and his daughter, Nymphadora Merope Fingal, their middle names his nod to that part of his heritage.

This, of course, did not sit well with Rose, Tom´s favorite of our children. They eventually patched things up between them, but she was determined to have the name Gaunt living on.

It was said that Malfoys only produced one heir per generation, but Rose willed herself to break this tradition and made both Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy promise her they would allow their second born son to bear her maiden name.

They agreed, probably thinking she would never deliver said extra baby, just to be presented with three children: Scorpio Thomas Malfoy in 1974; Astrid Mia Malfoy in 1978 and finally, Draco Abraxas Gaunt-Riddle in 1980.

Coleen broke her betrothal with Sirius Black with my approval; she had long decided she would marry her childhood friend, Severus Snape, and the boy, who adored her, was in complete agreement. After years of Severus publically exchanging hexes with Sirius  for “ shaming” Coleen with his many conquests, Lord Orion Black agreed in breaking their contract and washed his hands on his son.

Like in my original timeline, Sirius was indeed disowned by his father, but not blasted from the Black Family Tree. Sirius found refuge with the Potters, became an Auror and only settled down last year, marrying a muggle model thirteen years his junior.

The Princes eventually were left without heirs and contacted Eileen Snape when Severus was on his last year at Hogwarts. It was not a coincidence they made this move after it was announced that Severus would be marrying the daughter of the still revered ( at least in in some circles) Tom Marvolo Gaunt-Riddle. Eileen and Severus only accepted the Prince´s proposal because they wished to provide Coleen with the comfort she experienced at Fingal Castle. Prince Manor was not as big and had fallen in disrepair, but it was a fine property and they managed to renovate through the years, as Severus owl delivery potions business became extremelly sucessful.

Severus and Coleen married a month after she graduated at Hogwarts, and eight months into their marriage, Sean Thomas Prince was born.

Mary Louise and Regulus Black could not wait- or at least, could not bother to keep appearances- and my daughter found herself pregnant in her sixth year. She gave birth to Cassiopeia Mary Black instead of sitting for her N.E.W.T´s  and would have never returned to Hogwarts had I not pestered her; she was privately tutored as she cared for little Cassie, and finally received her certificate of completion two years after, already pregnant with the long awaited heir, Perseus Severus Black.

 

***

At the station, I saw two muggles walking with their son and recognized them immediately as my parents in my previous life.

“Excuse me” I said politely. “ are you perchance seeking Platform 9 ¾?”

“Yes!” answered the boy excitedly. “ My parents cannot get that far though…”

“My name is Mia Fingal and I dare say your son is going to Hogwarts, is that correct?”

The woman I had once known as mother nodded. “ Yes, that is correct. We have been visited by Professor Minerva McGonagall and she had mentioned that the Minister of Magic was a woman named Mia, are you per any chance, the Minister?”

“Yes, I am. “

“Oh, then allow me to thank your personally for your reforms, Mrs Fingal.” the middle aged man I once called father said. “ When we asked if we would be allowed to visit Hogwarts and see where our son would be educated, the Professor mentioned that five years ago, it would have been impossible, but that Minister Fingal had insited it could be done."

“The wards at Hogwarts would make it impossible for muggles to see the property as it is, but we developed a spell that allowed for parents or guardians of muggle-born witches and wizards to visit the Castle. Unfortunately, this can only be achieved in two occasions: upon the first visit and graduation, but it is better than nothing and only fair. “

“Regardless, it means a lot to us that we know where our Hermes will be, even if we cannot visit him anytime we would like to.”

I could not resist but suggest we meet for tea and asked both Monica and Herbert Granger to wait for me at a nearby Café so we could talk.

“Scorpio, Astrid, this young man here is Hermes Granger and he will join your younger brother, Draco, in his first year. Would you please keep an eye on the youngsters, see that they are well cared for?”

Scorpio had been, unsurprisingly, sorted into Slytherin and made Head Boy. Astrid, however, was a Ravenclaw like I had been, and a Prefect. I also introduced Hermes to Domhall, a Gryffindor seeker in his last year, and Nymphadora, the sole Huffepuff of the bunch.

My children and I saw their children boarding the train among the Weasleys, Potters, Lovegoods and Longbottoms; with a smile on my face, I went to meet the parents I had not seen in almost fifty years.

 

***

My records stated that I was sixty five years old, but I looked at least twenty years younger, Monica said.

“Witches and wizards age differently” I replied.

I told them about Colleen, the squib that linked their son Hermes to the Noble House of Fingal and they were ecstatic: “ Professor Mcgonagall had mentioned that Colleen Cohen was indeed Hermes magical ancestor and that her magical family had been informed, but we never expected to be related to the Minister of Magic!”

“Magical families are expected to reach out in those cases and I had been planning to do so, but my job had kept me very busy. I did, however, informed my family that our relative would be joining my grandson Draco, and that I expected them to treat Hermes as a cousin, so I hope we will get to see a lot of each other in the coming years."

 And so it was.: I finally had my parents back, but could never hope to explain the extent of our relationship.

Hermes was my brother, born a year after Monica had miscarried their daughter in the Spring of 1979, a baby that should have been me had I not changed the future and travelled back in time.

 

***

**2028**

 

My last thoughts were of Tom, the selfish, evil, brilliant man I had married and loved more than I had ever anticipated when I started it all.

 

Would I meet him in the afterlife?

 

Would he forgive me for taking not only his life, but his immortality?

 

Would I ask him to?

 

_No._

 

I could never apologise for doing what was right. Tom had been gone for over sixty years. My life and that of our children moved on without him. Merlin, I had even dated a couple of guys after becoming a widow, but _nothing_ , nor _no one_ would ever come closer to fill the hole Tom had left in my life. 

 

**Announcement:**

**Part 2 of my series is now available:**

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177302/chapters/35196671

The tone is very different from the present fic, but consider giving it a try if you here for Tom and Hermione.

 


End file.
